_Nelly._ What didst thou hear him mouth about?
_Dick._ May I grow honest if I bees able to tell, 'twere sich outlandish gibberish. What have the rest done, missus?
_Nelly._ Why, like you, Richard, they're growing honest.
_Dick._ Ah! ware o' that. My grandam, who was the real seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, said of I, in my cradle, "The moment this here child grows honest, he'll be hung." I've done my best, all my life, to keep my neck out of the halter.
_Nelly._ So you have, Richard. I went up to the Hall to beg for the fragments off the rich man's table. Lady Bountiful, who was bountiful in nought but reviling, was the person whom I met. Bridewell and the stocks was the tune, and the big dog sang the chorus at my heels. But I'll be more than even with her. If I have the heart to feel an injury, she shall find that I've a head to help my heart to its revenge. Revenge--I love it!
_Bill._ That you do, missus; I'll answer for you there. If you be affronted, you be the most cantackerous hanimal that ever boiled a pot. Come, Dick, let's take the jacket off our customers, for fear of mischief. (_Dick and Bill retire with the poultry._)
_Nelly_ (_assuming a more elevated manner_). Heigho! how many things, long forgotten, come to my memory on this spot! Hard by I was brought up, and even from this place I can see where my father and mother lie buried. Here I was once innocent and happy. No, not happy, or I should have stayed, and still been innocent. But away with the useless thought! The steward's son--it must be young Bargrove. I did not meet him yesterday when I was at the village, but I saw and spoke to Lucy, his sister, who was nursed at this breast; and how I yearned to press her to it! Pretty creature, how she hath grown! Little did my lady think, when she drove me away, that I was the Nelly who used to be so much at the Hall, nursing Lucy, whilst Mrs Bargrove gave her breast to Miss Agnes. Little did Lucy, when she loaded my wallet with victuals, think that she had so long lain in these arms. Heigho! bye-gone is bye-gone! What a haughty woman is that Lady Etheridge! And yet, she was once a farmer's daughter, but little better than myself. Could I be revenged on her! Ah! I may; I know every particular connected with the family; but here comes the lad. [_Nelly retires_